


On a Lavender Night

by Tenillypo



Category: Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: 1920s, Awkward Flirting, Berlin (City), But Diana has her uses, Dubious Historical Accuracy, Etta is a better spy than Diana, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Lesbian Character, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 10:46:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13052433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenillypo/pseuds/Tenillypo
Summary: Etta Candy is on a mission, and Diana is just the woman to help her.





	On a Lavender Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Selenay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenay/gifts).



"Everyone is staring," Diana murmured as they walked into the club, handing off their coats to the young bellboy with a generous tip. She'd leaned in close so no one else could hear, but there wasn't much chance of that—the room was alive with the sound of laughter and music. "I thought these outfits were supposed to help us blend in."

It was true their entrance had attracted some attention, although none of it was directed at Etta. One of the first things Etta had realized about Diana upon making her acquaintance was the woman was biologically incapable of blending in, no matter what she wore. Three years later, it was as true now as it had been in the dressing room of that department store in London. But dressed as Diana currently was in a fitted men's tuxedo—black pants, white jacket, silk bow tie—the notion was particularly laughable. With her hair slicked back into a tight twist and the deep red lipstick Etta had given her, the overall effect was… striking.

"You look exactly like you belong," Etta told her, resisting the urge to tug at her own décolletage, which was rather more on display than she was used to. But never let it be said that Etta Candy did not do her part for Queen and country.

Especially never let it be said by the boys back in the home office who still looked at her as if she should be fetching their tea. Etta had been running missions for British Intelligence for two years now, but this was the first time they'd let her out into the field. She was determined to make the most of the opportunity.

Which meant blending in here at Chez Ma Belle Soeur. According to Etta's contact, it was more of a tourist attraction than most of the clubs in Berlin that catered to this particular clientele, so a bit of gawking was only to be expected. It was for the best, really. Diana's German might be impeccable, but Etta's left much to be desired. Here, though, with any luck, they'd just be taken for another pair of curious foreigners.

Indeed, when Etta glanced back at the floor, most of the heads that had turned at their entrance had returned to their own conversations. There were a few men scattered around the room, but the crowd was mostly women sitting together in pairs or groups, talking and drinking and dancing. Some wore dresses even more scandalous than Etta's, but many others were in suits that would have been perfectly modest had they been worn by a man. 

She took a deep breath and offered her arm to Diana. "Shall we?" 

It felt strange, being arm in arm with another woman like this. Strange, but also a little exciting. She'd done her research, of course, but it was another thing entirely to be walking inside a place like this and know that everyone else thought, well... what they were likely to think, seeing the two of them together.

Diana, of course, led the way down the steps to the main room as if she hadn't a care in the world. She probably didn't. Perhaps the second thing Etta had noticed about Diana was her utter lack of interest in many of the things society held dear. It was one of the most thrilling things about being her friend.

Indeed, as they reached the floor, Diana was looking around with interest, but none of the disgust a proper society woman should feel in such a den of depravity and sin. As someone who was supposed to be a proper society woman, Etta supposed _she_ should be horrified, but there seemed nothing so truly terrible about it all. In fact there was something quite lovely about the lack of self-consciousness among the women here.

"What now?" Diana asked.

"Now," Etta said, heading over to an empty table in the back corner,"we wait." In this, spycraft was a lot like being a secretary. A whole lot of waiting on someone else.

Etta's contact had been sure the woman they were there to meet would be here tonight, but that didn't mean finding her would be easy. The main room was large and bustling, dimly lit and exotically decorated with frescoes on the walls and flowing curtains that shielded the back booths from view. There were also plenty of crowded tables on the main floor, arranged around a band playing cheerful jazz and a small open space where plenty of couples were enthusiastically dancing. 

As they sat down, Diana stared curiously at the fresco on the wall behind them. It seemed to involve a lot of scantily clad women playing lyres and frolicking around a pool. Etta squinted, then blushed: a few of them appeared to be frolicking rather intimately. 

"But they are Greek!" Diana exclaimed. "How delightful!" 

"Just like home, is it?" Etta said, carefully averting her eyes.

Diana tilted her head. "Styles have changed a bit, I think." Etta strongly suspected that was because no one even remotely Greek had been involved with the design of the decor. "It is refreshing to be among so many women enjoying themselves so freely," Diana continued. "Why are there no establishments like this in London?" 

In fact, there were clubs in London's West End full of women dancing with each other, even if they were not quite as brazen about it as the clubs of Berlin. With the surplus of women in Britain since the war, very few of Etta's friends had married, though not for lack of trying. But it was true there was certainly nothing exactly like _this_.

"Well, it's all just a little bit… frowned upon back home," she said, which was rather an understatement. Parliament had nearly passed a bill to ban such relationships the previous year. As if lonely women finding solace with each other were the biggest problem facing the empire. Then again, Etta rarely expected good sense to come out of men in general and politicians specifically, and had thus rarely been disappointed.

"Love is frowned upon?" Diana shook her head. "You English. Always making simple things so complicated." She leaned forward. "Like this mission—if the information this military man has is that important, why do we not simply ask him instead of going through his lover? With the lasso of truth, he cannot lie."

"Because this is spycraft, not war," Etta told her. "It's about the information you'll need later, not just the information you need now. That's why we're cultivating an asset."

Diana looked like she was set to argue, but Etta was saved by the appearance of a server, who smiled and asked something in German. Diana answered her, and after a brief exchange, the woman nodded and headed off. "I ordered us drinks," she explained, seeing Etta's inquiring look. 

Etta was about to thank her when a parting in the crowd revealed a familiar face: Anna Markov, mistress of a high ranking officer in the _Reichswehr_ , dancing with another woman on the other side of the room. After a second, the swirling crowd swallowed her again, but that lone glimpse had been enough. Etta was sure it was her.

"Come on," she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. "I see her, this is our chance."

A singer had joined the band, crooning in husky German as they pushed their way into the crowd of swaying couples. Etta had a moment of panic wondering how two women decide who leads, but of course Diana solved that problem again by taking Etta's hand and pulling her in tight against her.

Etta gasped, "Oh my," instinctively wrapping her hand around Diana's arm. 

"Am I doing it right?" Diana asked, sounding concerned. This close, she seemed even taller than normal; Etta had to crane her head up to look at her. 

"You're a very good dancer," she managed, feeling curiously lightheaded all of a sudden. Diana's grip was warm and confident; Etta said a silent prayer that her own hand wouldn't get too sweaty. She suspected Diana didn't sweat at all, or if she did, it was probably perfume and rainbows.

Diana snorted. "This is not dancing," she said with great certainty. "Someday, I will show you real dancing." Her smile turned wistful. "Steve taught me how to do this. In a little village in Belgium." Etta felt a pang—she could just picture them together, both so beautiful and strong. Perfect complements: the warrior and the spy.

She squeezed Diana's hand. "Thank you for doing this. I know it's not your style, all this sneaking around."

"I confess, I still do not understand the need for all this subterfuge," Diana said, then flashed a grin at Etta. "But I cannot deny it is a little fun."

They grinned at each other, Etta's heartbeat fluttering wildly. Then Diana smoothly guided her around another couple and there was Anna Markov's blonde head and red dress standing in the crush by the bar. And luck was with them: her dance partner was nowhere to be seen.

Etta nodded to her, pulling her focus back to the mission with some effort. "I believe it's time we introduced ourselves," she said, and Diana steered them in her direction. When they were close, she whispered, "Twirl me!" and when Diana did, she made sure to stumble right into their mark, knocking them both over in an awkward heap.

"Pardon me, I do apologize," Etta said, pretending to be flustered. "I have two left feet, it seems."

"It was my fault, really," Diana broke in, helping them both up. Etta saw the exact moment Markov realized a creature as ravishing as Diana was talking to her. It was a look she'd seen on every man and not a few women over the years: completely and instantly besotted. Etta could sympathize.

"It is no problem, really," she said in lightly accented English, brushing off her dress. She was a pretty woman, blonde hair arranged in fashionable waves, either alcohol or the heat of the club lending her face an appealing flush.

Before Etta could reply, their server appeared, holding two glasses of green liquid. " _Danke_ ," she murmured, then shot Diana a look. It _would_ have to be absinthe, which she had absolutely no head for.

"You have good taste," Markov murmured. They had definitely caught her attention. 

Etta took Diana's hand and shot Anna a significant look. "We were just going to find someplace a little more private to enjoy it. Would you care to join us?"

Markov considered the two of them, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Why not," she said, and said something to the server, who gave them a knowing look, then turned and led them across the room to an empty booth. 

Inside was a warm little bubble, cushioned and darkly lit. The server laughed and said something in rapid German, then closed the curtains behind her, leaving the sounds of the club abruptly muffled. 

"What did she say?" Etta asked.

"That we should enjoy ourselves." Their companion settled in on the cushioned bench and smiled invitingly. "My name is Anna. You are English, yes?"

"Yes." Etta sat next to her, Diana sliding in on her other side.

Anna raised an eyebrow. "Business? Or pleasure?" 

"Business, I'm afraid." Etta took a deep breath, straightening. This was the tricky part. "Business with you, Anna."

Anna went very still. "You are here to blackmail me." 

Blackmail was, of course, exactly what Etta's superiors had suggested when surveillance had caught her coming here. It turned Etta's stomach a bit, but that was how these things were done. She opened her mouth to reply—

"Of course not," Diana said firmly. "That would be extremely unethical. We would not force you to do anything you do not want to do." 

Etta's mouth snapped shut. 

"We are merely asking you to do the right thing," Diana continued.

"That's right," Etta said, recovering. "The British government would like to employ your services collecting certain...information."

"This is about Heinrich," Anna said slowly. "This isn't about money. You want me to betray him."

"We want you to protect the peace. Protect _Germany_. All we want to know is if there are any… bad elements in the _Reichswehr_ who might be working against the best interests of the German people."

"You do not care about the German people," Anna scoffed. "All you care about is England. Have you not already taken enough from us?"

"That is not true," Diana said earnestly. "I know that the German people are a good people. I am here because they do not deserve the suffering another war would bring."

Etta nodded. "If the _Reichswehr_ breaks the Treaty of Versailles, it could bring the whole world back to the brink of war. Do you really want that?"

"Of course not," Anna sighed. "But do you think _I_ would know about it?"

Etta laid her hand over Anna's. "I think women hear more than men think." That was true with secretaries and even more true with mistresses, she knew. Men always assumed women were deaf, dumb and blind, and got even stupider the minute a bed was involved. "And of course, you would be compensated for your service," she added. 

Anna looked away, clearly torn. "I am not with Heinrich for love," she confessed. "Times are tough. We all do what we must." She met Etta's eyes finally. "But I am not a traitor. Not even if you use this—" she gestured to their surroundings, "—against me."

Diana shook her head. "No one will use it against you. But if you see something that might prevent another war…"

Etta held her breath—the appeal to conscience was a long shot, especially without the threat of blackmail to enforce it. 

But Anna was looking thoughtful. "Perhaps. I must think on it." She got up. "You will know how to find me, I suppose?"

"Yes, but think quickly," Etta told her. She needed to report in a few days, and if she hadn't secured Anna's cooperation, another agent, less sympathetic, would be dispatched.

Anna nodded and opened the curtains, then abruptly stopped short, hissing, " _Verdammt_!" She pulled the curtain shut, turning to face them with a pale face. "Karl Schmidt is out there. He is an... an odious little _swine_ who works for Otto Böhm."

Etta frowned. "Böhm. Why is that name familiar?"

"He is Heinrich's biggest rival. If Schmidt is here, then he must already suspect he will find me." 

Etta gingerly peered around the edge of the curtain. A short, stocky man was handing a few bills to their server, who promptly pointed in their direction. She ducked back before he could see her. "Oh dear. I think he's coming this way."

Anna moaned, wild-eyed as a fox with it's leg caught in a trap. "There is no way out."

"You don't have to fear this man," Diana told her seriously. "I will not let him harm you." 

Anna shook her head. "You don't understand." She grabbed Etta's arm, pleading, "if he catches me here, he'll blackmail me himself. Or maybe just release it publicly to create a scandal. Either way, I'll be no use to you."

Her fear was infectious. Etta made a very quick decision. "Get under the table," she ordered. Diana and Anna both stared. "Quickly!" Etta pulled up the edge of the tablecloth and Anna must have gotten the idea, because she slithered under. The table was small, but she just fit, pressed against their legs.

"Diana," Etta said, turning to her, swallowing a flutter of nerves, "what I'm about to do may impose on our friendship, but I'm afraid needs must."

Diana opened her mouth, but now the curtain was twitching and there was no time—Etta lunged across the booth and pulled her into a kiss. Diana made a soft "oomph" of surprise, but she leaned into the kiss, hands coming up to cradle Etta's face before sliding into her hair, and stroking the back of her neck. Her lips were very, very soft, and Etta lost herself for a moment. 

Then the curtain ripped open and both of them flinched back from the sudden shock of light and sound. Etta blinked, panting a little. One of Diana's hands was still in her hair. It was both extremely distracting and extremely reassuring.

The short little man she'd seen a minute before—Schmidt, presumably—stood glaring at them in disgust. He spat a string of German words in an interrogative tone.

"Sorry," Etta said slowly and loudly. "I don't speak German."

He grunted, then, in halting English: "I said, I am looking for a woman."

Etta glanced at Diana, then forced a laugh. "I think you might be in the wrong place for that." 

He visibly grit his teeth. "Not for me, you—" he visibly stopped himself. "She is blonde, red dress. Do not lie to me, _schlampe_. You were seen with her earlier."

Anna was right. He was a truly odious little toad. Etta knew right then and there that even if she didn't get an informant out of this, she would make it her next mission to make sure he never got the blackmail he was looking for.

Diana must have felt the same way, for her voice was like steel when she told him, "There are no women here for you, blonde or otherwise." Diana's hands slid onto Etta's shoulders. "Now, if you don't mind, my friend and I would like to be alone."

Her tone brooked no refusal, and some part of Schmidt's animal brain most have sensed his sudden danger, for he clearly wasn't convinced, but reluctantly backed out of the booth with another glare.

Etta reached over to snap the curtains shut. "Odious little man is right." She couldn't quite bring herself to look at Diana, still flushed from their kiss.

Anna's head poked out from under the table. "He is gone?" 

"For now." She risked another peak around the corner of the curtain. Schmidt had stationed himself at a table by the front door and settled in like he didn't intend to move any time soon. "Although he appears rather determined, your slimy friend." 

Anna looked at them in despair. "What can we do? He cannot see me here."

"There must be a back door. We just need to get to it."

"There is, over behind the bar. But we will never get there without him seeing us!"

"Etta," Diana murmured, "I could—" and she furtively crossed her arms in an 'X' shape. 

Etta stared, her previous awkwardness forgotten. "What is that? I don't know what—" she mimed the arm motion, "means."

"Lightning!" Diana whispered. Anna was watching them curiously. 

"Oh, absolutely not." Etta shook a finger at her. "There will be none of that funny business on this mission. Do you know how long a report I'd have to write to explain—" she lowered her voice to a hiss, "indoor lightning?"

Diana threw her hands up in frustration. "Well, then what do you suggest?"

Etta thought quickly. She turned to Anna: "They can't welcome snitches in a place like this, right?"

Anna frowned. "What is 'snitches'?"

"Blackmailers."

"Oh!" Her face cleared. " _Nein_. Definitely not."

Etta smiled. "Then I have an idea." She whispered her plan to Anna, then stuck her head out of the curtain and waived to one of the servers, ignoring Schmidt's pointed gaze.

A few minutes later, most of the crowd had migrated directly in front of Schmidt's table. Etta caught a glimpse of him standing and craning his head to see their booth and then several of the taller women stepped in between them and he was blocked from view entirely.

"Let's go!" 

Anna darted out, ducking down as she led the way down to the bar, Etta and Diana following. Etta looked back once; the crowd was still hiding them, although there was a commotion at the front that suggested Schmidt was attempting to break through.

"Hurry!" she told Anna, and then they were through a door and running down a narrow corridor, thankfully empty, with crates of alcohol stacked on either side. There was another door at the end, and Anna jiggled the handle, then cried, "It's locked!" in dismay.

"Step back," Diana said, with an expression that said she was clearly about to kick the entire door off of it's hinges. 

Etta hastily stepped in front of the door. "None of that," she said, pulling a pin out of her hair. "They trained us for this." Destroying the place on their way out was hardly keeping a low profile.

Thankfully, this security wasn't that tight. Picking the lock was work of a moment, and with a flick and a twist of her wrist, the door was open and all three of them were tumbling out into the cold air of the alley behind the club. 

Anna gasped in relief, clasped each of their hands. " _Danke_. You have no idea… _danke_!"

"You are most welcome," Diana said, and pulled her into a hug.

Anna looked a little dazed when she let her go—Etta knew for a fact that a full body hug from Diana Prince was quite the experience—but it was Etta she turned to. "I will help you," she said with determination. "As you said, for the _Deutsches Reich_."

Etta let out a deep breath. "Thank you. I will make sure you won't regret it." She looked behind them. "Now go. You shouldn't be seen here for a while, or anywhere else that might be compromising. We'll be in contact."

Anna nodded. "I will be waiting." She flashed them both a smile and then turned down the alley and was quickly lost from sight.

Etta looked at Diana. "That went reasonably well, don't you think?" Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the chill of the December air was harder to ignore, and she shivered, thinking longingly of the winter gear they'd left with the bellboy.

Diana wrapped a warm arm around her shoulders and smiled. "You were very quick on your feet."

Etta flushed. "Oh, you know," she said, the warmth of Diana's admiring tone more more potent than even the heat of her body, "'quick on her feet Candy,' that's what they call me—"

The door slammed open behind them and she cut off with a squeak. Schmidt stumbled out, looking more than a little rumpled; clearly, he had had to fight his way through to follow them. 

"You!" he exclaimed. "Where is she?" He reached for Etta, but Diana caught his arm, lightning quick.

"You do not want to do that," she told him.

Schmidt tried to jerk away, looking briefly startled when he couldn't free himself. "You—you degenerates!" he said, anger twisting his face, and pulled out a knife with his other hand.

Diana caught his wrist before he could swing it, squeezing until he dropped the knife. Schmidt howled in rage. "May I?" she asked Etta, ignoring him.

"Please do," Etta said, and Diana sent Schmidt flying in a very gratifying heap. After a moment, he groaned and stumbled to his feet, casting them a fearful look before limping away. Etta smiled at Diana. "Thank you. My hero."

Diana smiled back, looking quite satisfied. "What now, Miss Candy?" 

Etta considered. "Well, technically, the mission has been accomplished," she said, then looked Diana up and down. "But the night is young, and I feel like dancing."

Diana's dazzling smile got even wider. She offered her arm, and Etta followed her back inside.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Yuletide, Selenay! I loved your prompt and hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. :) 
> 
> Title is from [The Lavender Song](https://www.facinghistory.org/resource-library/audio/lavender-song-das-lila-lied)
> 
> Some interesting facts I learned while researching this story:  
> \- Blackmail was [so common in interwar Germany](https://www.npr.org/2014/12/17/371424790/between-world-wars-gay-culture-flourished-in-berlin) that there was an official "Department of Blackmail and Homosexuality".  
> \- Gal Gadot once posed for a picture dressed [like this](http://media2.intoday.in/indiatoday/images/Photo_gallery/gal-gadot-mos-3_032716034501.jpg).
> 
> My sincerest apologies for all Americanisms, historical inaccuracies, and mangled German.


End file.
